Selatcia
by VelvetEvoker
Summary: Detailing and speculation on the background of Mr. Selatcia.
1. The Missing

Miskatonic University was one of the top post-secondary institutions in the United States, and notoriously hard to get into. According to school rumors, several aspiring students had been hospitalized at the adjoining psych ward after suffering mental breakdowns from the entrance essay alone. Whether that rumor was true or not, the students who were admitted would believe it based on experience. Due to this, it would be hard to believe that having a bad roommate was the most difficult thing any student would have to go through.

Unfortunately, this was not the truth for Howard Young and Viktor Selatcia. Howard was one of the few students admitted on the basis of athletic scholarship and though he was reasonably intelligent he was also a notorious cheat. It was accepted by a lot of the student-base who knew him that Howard had paid a graduate to write his essay, probably because he bragged about it quite often. Miskatonic was a mostly science-based university and didn't attract many athletic candidates, yet a few corrupt executives did not want to give up the monetary grants the sports wing brought in. Long story short, it would take a good couple murders before anyone expelled Howard.

Viktor – who everyone usually referred to as Selatcia due to the presence of another Viktor in the same year with the same major – didn't have to work hard or cheat to get in. He was a straight-A student throughout his entire life and was quite intellectually gifted. However, Selatcia wasn't exactly a people person. He didn't really ilike/i anyone. If he would've ended up with a quiet, bookish roommate who kept to himself, it would've been tolerable. Instead, he was stuck with someone who had too many friends and invited them over all too much.

Needless to say, Howard and Selatcia did not get along well. On their first meeting Selatcia had informed Howard that he better be easily ignored or there were going to be some problems. Howard informed him that he was from that point on going to make as many problems as he possibly could, the most notorious of which had been kidnapping the school mascot and throwing it on Selatcia's bed while he was in class.

The school's mascot was a squid, and by the time Selatcia got back it was dead and the sheets had to be disinfected.

Selatcia was not one to be pushed around easily, and if anything Howard did really hurt him he never showed it. He expressed his annoyance, but not in a way that showed any weakness of character. He expressed his annoyance in the way that would make most people believe that he was sincerely about to kill without remorse. The only real reason he didn't was because he would get expelled for that, so he grudgingly put up with whatever his roommate threw at him.

Selatcia was more surprised than anything when Howard invited him to go along when he and his friends snuck into an incomplete and abandoned wing of the school. Howard said they needed a 'science-type' to go along with them in case they needed to do 'science stuff' to get in there. Selatcia was not a gullible person by any means and he quite reasonably figured that Howard was doing this to get him in trouble or otherwise torment him.

"No." he said, opening his book and trying to look as utterly zoned out as he could.

"Come ion/i," Howard whined, "There'll be something in it for you."

"Hm." Selatcia replied, apathetically.

"What a wet rag," Howard said, turning to his friends, who all laughed, "How about this, don't come and see how great the rest of your year is."

"Good luck with that." Selatcia said, waving his hand like he would if he were brushing away a fly.

Eventually, Howard confessed that his true intention was to have Selatcia stand guard at the door while he and his friends looked around for stuff to steal and shot up stolen heroin from the medical facility. Selatcia didn't like to give in, but he finally agreed to go when they swore he'd only have to stand guard for a few minutes until they got rid of the syringes, and in return Howard would stay in his friend's room for the rest of the week. This was too tempting of an offer, coupled with the fact that there was potential for at least some of them to get in serious trouble.

"The rest of the week," he said, "I count that as until midnight Monday."

"Yeah, yeah, sure, just get up."

So they went, Selatcia in the front and the rest of the group traveling a bit behind as having them all together, willingly, would be a bit suspicious. Selatcia thought of that one and Howard used it to back his decision to bring a 'science guy'. When they arrived at the door leading to the abandoned wing they had to make their way passed what basically amounted to a loose-hung chain and some yellow tape. The university staff probably didn't think any of the students would be interested enough to go, but Howard said it was probably like that to divert interest like reverse psychology. Selatcia did not care and told them to hurry up and do whatever they were doing.

Howard had told Selatcia to stay near the door until he heard them knock on it, at which point he could leave and his end of the bargain would be held up. Selatcia leaned against the wall and opened up his notebook, scribbling something down. No one else walked by, and if they did they would have assumed Selatcia wanted to be on his own which was not all that far from what was actually happening.

A good half hour passed and he heard no knock on the door. He would have given up and left, but thought of the unpleasant possibility that Howard might come barging into the room angry as all Hell fifteen minutes later deterred him from that. Instead, he opened the door just a crack to look inside. What he saw was an empty room, full of old wooden boards and a single staircase that lead up a few levels, but the other floors had collapsed (thus the boards) and the staircase clearly led to nowhere.

"Howard?" he called out, figuring they might be lying down near the top of the staircase or something.

No one answered. He thought that it might be a trick to get him to come inside only to be smacked with a board while the drugged-up jerks laughed, but against his better judgment went in anyways. If they all overdosed – as much as he disliked them – he would feel guilty for not at least reporting it to emergency, even if it would mean he'd get in trouble too. This was the last time Selatcia would feel anything remotely resembling selflessness.

He walked up the staircase, which seemed sturdy enough, and sure enough Howard and two of his three friends were standing there. Selatcia rolled his eyes before noticing that they had quite a terrible look on their faces, a look he'd expect from people on a bad trip (which was quite possible, some strange stuff went on in the medical facility and it was fairly brave to take anything that came out of it). And then he noticed that three of the four syringes were on the steps – broken, but the unused liquid was dripping down the staircase.

"Look guys," Howard said to his friends, happy in the saddest possible way, "There's ol' Viktor. He's real smart. He's gonna help us outta this, yeah?"

Selatcia looked confused, and displeased as he did not often feel confused at all. He figured it must have something to do with the missing friend and though he thought they were all just being idiots he asked, "Where's Eugene?"

Howard pointed down and said that he fell of the staircase. Palm to his face, Selatcia explained that the fall was barely high enough to break a bone before he was interrupted with a string of 'no, no, no's.

"You don't iget/i it," Howard's other friend, Robbie, said, "He never hit the bottom."

Selatcia raised an eyebrow and looked over the railing. Then, though he would never admit it even in hindsight, for a few moments he had the same stupid, baffled look on his face that the rest of the guys did. Below him now where there had been only floor, were more staircases. Long staircases, as far down as he could see. Furthermore, when he turned around he could no longer see the door, only wall.

"Throw it," he said to Howard, pointing at one of the broken syringes as he certainly wasn't going to touch heroin-covered broken glass himself.

For the first time since they had met, Howard complied with something Selatcia had said. He took the largest complete piece he could find and threw it down the staircase. All four boys looked down, listening intently. They never heard it hit the ground. Even the eerily calm Selatcia was getting quite frustrated at this point, checking his shoes to see if perhaps he'd stepped on the class and it had cut through his shoes all the way to his skin and he was hallucinating because of it. His shoes were in perfect condition.

"What do we do now?" the last friend, Stephen, asked, and all eyes were intently on Selatcia to come up with a solution.

"There can't be a place with no way out," he said, looking up, "Looks like it goes up as far as it goes down. I say two of us go up, two go down, and we yell when we find something."

Howard and Selatcia went up, at Howard's choice, because despite all of the past hatred he was now intent on staying with Selatcia, clinging to him like a lost puppy. Robbie and Stephen went down and neither of the two groups ever saw each other again.

They walked up those stairs for what felt like – and indeed had been – hours, and all the while Howard was shaking and Selatcia found himself strangely unafraid. Confused, yes, frustrated, very, even iangry/i, but not afraid. Behind him, he could hear Howard crying softly and it gave him some grotesque sense of accomplishment to ultimately be the brave one.

"W-we gotta stop, okay?" Howard said, shaking, "It's – I can't go on anymore for now."

Selatcia stopped, sat down on the stairs, and said nothing. He stared downward, his eyes nearly unblinking, deep in thought. Howard was telling him something about his regrets in between sobs and trying to get Selatcia to reassyre him that everything would be okay. Selatcia said nothing until he was asked if he had any regrets.

"I came here because I was concerned for you." Was his reply, his voice colder and more emotionless than usual, and Howard said nothing more until he said he was ready, and they started walking again.

It was hours more until they came upon anything at all and by this time no one could tell that Howard was still crying because he was sweating so heavily. Selatcia, on the other hand, found himself surprisingly less tired despite Howard being more athletic. He guessed it was because he was unafraid and didn't take to sobbing.

The first thing they came upon was another person, lying face-down on the staircase. Selatcia gave the body a nudge with his foot, and Howard started talking but by now it was all incoherent babbling. The body suddenly sprung to life, though there was something off about him. His head and limbs seemed to be moving independently of any rational thought, and yet he spoke.

"It's been a while," he said, "Since anyone has been up here."

"Who are you?" Selatcia asked, now accepting that Howard wasn't going to do anything helpful.

"That isn't important, but your friend," he said, one eye twitching in Howard's direction, "Looks rather tired. Keep going, you're almost there."

The body collapsed on the stairs again before Selatcia asked just where they were going, but it wasn't as if there was a choice. Even if there was something at the bottom it was equally unknown and going that way could take long enough for them to starve to death. Selatcia grabbed Howard by the wrist and pulled him upwards.

If he had been examining the body more carefully he would've saw a thin wire-like string attached to its back. But by the time he noticed the wire-thing on the ground he had gone up a few more flights of stairs and it had gotten considerably thicker. Soon there was another body with the wire – which now looked more like an extended limb – much more noticeably embedded in its back, and then another, and then two at once, and progressively more until he couldn't avoid stepping on some bodies to continue the trek upwards. The bodies and the wire-limb all seemed to share a pulse, twitching in a mass like a twisted heart.

Howard had fallen down on the last flight of stairs and Selatcia didn't notice until he looked back. Whatever the thing was it seemed to be growing around him, a look of absolute terror on his face. Selatcia did not dare to try and save him now, the thing had started to have its way with him and Selatcia had gotten in enough trouble for being selfless today.

As he walked upwards he saw a door with a great deal of light coming out from underneath it, and a hole in the wall near the door where the wire had burst through. Whatever it was was behind that door. He didn't particularly want to open it but was again faced with a situation where he had basically no choice. Whatever the thing was it noticed his presence and if he stopped now he'd meet the same fate as Howard.

He opened the door and was hit with such a blinding light that his eyes began to water, and he had to look down from the source until they adjusted. Even then, the light was only bearable. In the room was what looked like a series of orbs of various sizes, and upon closer inspection they looked like glass windows with hanging lamps behind them. Once in a while, one of the orbs would blink and the whole pile would move. The mass of lights was the thing.

It made a noise and moved, getting up off the floor so Selatcia could see a mildly coherent form with a head and three gigantic, spidery legs. Behind it was the wire, which Selatcia now realized was a tail, winding around the room multiple times before it went through the hole in the wall. Most of the tail was made up with human bodies, which got less and less coherent the closer they got to the base. The bodies were, in some way or another, moving and still alive. Selatcia stared, gaping in awe more than horror. He didn't expect the thing to speak, but it did.

"Congratulations." It said in its booming, powerful voice, "It's been a long time."

"You were waiting for me." Selatcia said, pretending he knew anything at all about the thing.

"Arrogant," it said, "No, your identity is of no concern to me. If you must get a stroke to your ego, however, I will say that you are the first I've seen in a long, long time not to tremble and collapse in the presence of a demon."

"I don't believe in demons." He said, "Until now, I suppose, but I have my dignity."

The demon gave what Selatcia guessed was a laugh, "The other folks on the stairs you've stepped over, and the ones in here, sure had their dignity once too."

"And they've lost it now," Selatcia replied apathetically, "I want to know how to get out."

"What makes you think I am going to let you," he said, "When the last guests of mine came twenty years ago?"

"I didn't ask you to let me, I asked you to tell me." He said, with not a hint of fear even as the demon waved its hideous amalgamation of a tail around.

The demon stared, its illuminated eyes focused on Selatcia like a spotlight. It stood up as tall as it could, and then it crouched down low as if it were about to pounce. Selatcia stared forward, his cold eyes staring. The demon looked disappointed.

"You're different then they are," he said, "You've got resentment, regret, and all too much hatred – so I know you have to be human, at least – but you've got no fear. You have stepped into the other world and you don't give a idamn/i."

"I do," he replied, "But not in a way that you'd care about. From the moment I saw you, I knew that I was not the type who would give you any sort of satisfaction. Your glee at and your need for fear, is the very reason I do not fear you."

With that, the demon shook its head and gave a roar, lunging down and swallowing Selatcia whole as if he was a pill. He tumbled down into the insides of the demon, which was not what he expected the inside of any living being to look like. More bright orbs were hanging off of it in a giant spider-web pattern and he felt for a moment as if he were inside a chandelier.

The demon spoke again, "I detest you, thing, and you're fortunate I don't want you here. There is a doorway here, in the middle of the lights. And don't imess/i with the lights as your kind is so prone to messing unless you'd rather have this whole thing collapse around you."

Selatcia nodded and walked onward as the lights got more frequent and clustered together, each light having the same heartbeat twitch as the bodies on the stairway. He could see the doorway now, though he had to squeeze through a mass of lights to get there (which, despite feeling burning hot left no marks on his skin or his clothing).

One leg in the doorway, he heard the demon say "I'd have to wonder whose going to want you back ithere/i if even I rejected you."

He paused for a moment in deep thought, taking out a small pocketknife. It took him only a few moments to cut loose one of the hanging lights, and it detached and began to burn up with a horrible sizzle. Like a string of Christmas lights after one bulb burns out, the rest of the lights flickered off one by one too. He heard a screech and a crash, which he assumed was the demon's head hitting the ground. The doorway was still there.

He was right on two counts: His theory was that the demon was inherently selfish and wouldn't care about his well-being enough to warn him of any danger. His second theory, which he'd thought of after seeing the doorway, was that the doorway existed independently of the demon that had, in fact, grown itself around it.

A third theory came to him then and because of that, he waited. After a few minutes he heard something shuffling around, and the body of the demon was moving again, detaching itself from the door. With that, Selatcia jumped through the doorway and found himself once again in the abandoned room. His third theory – unfortunately correct – was that the demon did not exist as the sole inhabitant of that place and it was confirmed when something, or somethings, began to drag it away.

Howard and his friends were reported missing and never found, something which Selatcia said not a word about. From then on his eyes reflected nothing but that light he'd seen in the other world, and he walked and stared as if he were the only person in the world.

He went to class less and less frequently before slipping out of the university quietly, leaving his books and possessions there, never returning again. Assumed to be traumatized by the death of his roommate (who was declared dead after a few months of failed searching), the staff attempted to contact him with no avail. Due to the previous circumstances, Selatcia was assumed dead too, but nothing official ever happened.

March twenty-second, nineteen-fifty-five. Twenty-year-old Viktor Selatcia looked down on a city and people that seemed a whole lot more trivial than they had before, and up at a sky that seemed a lot less vast and infinite. He knew now that something was out there and something was coming if he had to make it come himself – a thing, an event, he didn't know what it was but he knew it was ithere/i.

And when It came, he'd be coming for It.


	2. The Cult

Selatcia had seen the young woman several times without paying much attention to her. Now a man of moderate status, he had to make a few general appearances at get-togethers where the members of the upper-class community gathered and no one really cared about anyone else who was there. He actually had quite a bit more money than he let his lifestyle show, but he wanted to accumulate his funds without attracting too much attention. His money was, surprisingly, got in legitimate fashions (he was a genius when it came to the stock market), so he wasn't afraid of any legal repercussions. He just wanted to be able to easily break away from this aggravating community and their pompous yet meaningless lifestyles. Something bigger was coming, he knew it.

But for now, he had to be patient. He had to wait.

He figured the woman was just another rich lady handing out invitations to Tupperware parties, and was not at all suspicious at constantly ending up in the same places as her. What he did not know was that the invitations were to an extremely persuasive religious seminar (and some of the people receiving invites were never seen again), and furthermore that the woman had been in a mad infatuation with him since the moment she first looked upon him. He never got an invitation, whether it was because she didn't feel he was expendable or because she was too shy to talk to him was unknown.

She was, however, too shy to talk to him until the twelfth – she was keeping track, he wasn't – time they had been in the same room together. He was standing alone by the food table with a wine glass he didn't take a single drink out of. He never took a single drink, and she noticed. The only reason she could approach him at all then was because she'd had a little too much to drink.

"Boring party, huh?" she said.

He looked at her. He was trying to size up whether one of these people was ireally/i talking to him and if he ireally/i had to respond to it. She was too excited that he had looked at her at all to notice any signs of displeasure, and he stared for what seemed in her mind to be hours. He was probably old enough to be her father, his black hair graying a bit, but she didn't care. There was just something about him – whether it was that look in his eyes, the way he seemed so able to ignore everyone, or the fact that he had the neatest-kept goatee she had ever laid eyes on – that she couldn't resist.

"Mmhmm," was his only reply.

"Liz Bane," she said, extending her hand, "And you must be Viktor Selatcia."

"Yes," he said, ignoring the proposed handshake.

"You know, I've heard a lot about you," she said, which was a lie because she had actually heard absolutely nothing about him.

"Alright," he replied, trying to deflect her attempts to make small talk.

He failed, because she kept on talking to him for at least half an hour. She about things such as the weather and other boring, generic conversational topics one brings up when they don't actually know anything about the person. Selatcia never gave her more than a one-word answer but in her mind he was thoroughly interested, just the 'strong, silent' type. After the banter and some more drinks on her part, she did what amounted to the most shocking thing he had seen in eighteen years.

She put her arm around his shoulders, leaned in, and asked him if he wanted to come home with her tonight.

Selatcia took a drink. He stepped away and refused, glaring at her menacingly. She stared up at him for a few seconds before turning and walking away, wondering why on Earth a man of his age would refuse an invitation from a much younger good-looking lady. She thought he might've been married, but she never saw him with anyone else and it would be strange for him to leave his wife at home all the time. Depressed, she gave up on thinking about it and went home.

He tried to ignore what had just happened, but he couldn't help but feel awkward. He wondered what would lead her to believe that he wanted anything to do with her at all when he clearly wasn't social with anyone else. Selatcia was strange in that he was never really infatuated with anyone before, not really interested in anything romantic or sexual, which was why he didn't really want to think about the intentions she might've had with him.

Frustrated and unwilling to remain at the party any longer, he put his glass down and left. As he was walking out he noticed something sitting in the trash can: a few of the invitations Liz Bane was always passing out at these types of things. Curious, he looked around to make sure no one was watching and he picked one out of the bin. He didn't want to be caught actually reading it, so he pocketed it until he got back to his house.

When he arrived at home and went into his bedroom, he took the slip of paper out. It was not at all what he expected to see. Instead of being for another party or dinner, it was an advertisement for a group called "The Order of the Dybbuks", which promised to provide a 'new and interesting experience' while at the same time 'heightening self-esteem and fighting depression'. He sighed and crumpled it up, disgusted that he spent most of the night talking to some delusional hippie woman.

He took an extra-long shower and went to sleep, putting the whole thing behind him. And as he slept, he dreamed. He took extra notice of this because it was the first time he could remember coherently having a dream since the incident eighteen years ago. What he saw in the dream was a crowd of vaguely human spirits, clustered uncomfortably close together. Aside from a few incoherent whispers, only one of them talked.

"We are the Dybbuks," it said, "And we see you have been introduced to Our Lady."

"Liz Bane," he replied, "And I have no interest in her. You'll explain yourselves or leave."

"We think you will have interest in her soon enough," it said, "She has been suitably deceived."

"Deceived?" he asked, ready to wave them off the moment they lost his interest.

"You know about the Order of the Dybbuks," it said, "She believes that she and the rest of her followers can gain immortality by sacrificing a few lives."

"I have no interest in the insane woman," he said, turning his back on the Dybbuks.

"She is not so insane, just a bit off the mark," it explained, "She cannot gain immortality. But through the sacrifices, we can be reborn. Naturally, we would want all the help we can get in this cause."

"I am not helping you," he said.

"We will make it worth your while," it said, "All she needs is a bit of financing and encouragement."

"Worth my while?" he asked, that being the only thing to intrigue him so far.

"We cannot communicate with most – except you – but we can watch," it said, "In exchange for your help we guarantee you some vital secrets and service."

"And how do I know I can trust you?" he replied.

"For the same reason we can speak to you. Are you not the killer of the tower-demon, Arcus?" it asked, "We'd dare not betray a man who survived Arcus while we only inhabited mortal bodies."

And with that, Selatcia woke up. It was too early, but he was no longer tired. He sat alone in his bed for some time, thinking on what they had said. Arcus, as they called it, was a nameless creature in his mind until now. Even though he knew it was silly, his dealings with Arcus seemed to have more magnitude now that it had a name. Still, his distrust of Arcus was the only reason why he was able to kill it, so he wasn't about to give his trust to the Dybbuks so easily.

And yet, he felt as if whatever Liz Bane was trying to accomplish had to happen. He waited until it was not so early morning, and then called her up by way of the number on the crumpled invite.

"Ms. Bane, Order of the Dybbuks, pleased to receive your call," the voice on the other line said.

Of course she did not answer the phone like that for everyone; she had set up a special line to let her know when she was receiving a call from someone who had found a Dybbuks card.

"Yes," he said, "It's Viktor Selatcia, from last night."

"Oh!" she said, sounding surprised and fumbling with a few things before she spoke again, "Of course, Mr. Selatcia, if this is about last night I apologize-"

"No, I've called to say iI'm/i sorry," he lied, "I was in a bit of a sour mood last night."

"Oh, well, it's fine, really," she said.

He sighed, covering the phone with his hand so she wouldn't hear him. It was difficult making this sort of conversation, especially with someone who he knew had taken an interest in him. "If you like," he said, "We can meet up at the coffee house on 53rd ave this afternoon."

"I'll check my schedule," she said, and then almost immediately after said "Yes, I'm free, that'd be fantastic. Around 5:00?"

"Good. It's a…idate/i, then."

And then he hung up, disgusted at his use of the word 'date'. He hoped that nothing would actually come of it, because even in hearing Ms. Bane's voice over the phone he was beginning to remember why he was so infuriated by her. He got dressed into his best suit and waited, dreading the afternoon.

He arrived at the shop around 5:00 as she'd said, to find she was already waiting there and judging by the empty coffee cups on the table had been there for a while now. She waved him over enthusiastically, as if he had not already seen her. He rolled his eyes while she wasn't looking, and took a seat.

"Now," he asked, "What was it you wanted to talk to me about? At your house?"

"Oh," she said, blushing, "Nothing much, I was just hoping – I just – it's just – you caught my interest."

He raised an eyebrow, urging her to go on.

"Honestly?" she said, "This might sound crazy, but it was your eyes."

"What about my eyes?"

"Well, like I said, you might not believe me, but…my father was a bit notorious in the medical community. You may have heard of him, Frederick Bane. He was the person who had been declared legally dead the longest time before the doctors could revive him," she explained, "It was a car accident, and I remember him coming home that night and he was the happiest I think he'd ever been to see me and my mom. It didn't quite click until I saw you, but the look he had in his eyes was different after that – and you have that same look about you."

He had to think about that for a few moments, because though any other person might have said she was crazy at that point, to Selatcia it actually made some sort of sense. "I believe you," he said, for a moment being genuine.

"Really?" she said, staring up at him as if he was her savior.

"Yes, I have never been dead but there is something I've seen that I think your father may have seen, too." He said, taking this opportunity to make his move, he put the Dybbuks card on the table, "And that's also why I want to know about this."

"Oh, you've seen that," she said, almost disappointed, "I'd explain but, someone like you'd never believe it. I don't want you thinking I'm crazy or something."

"Actually," he said, again surprisingly sincere, "I think someone like me is exactly the type of person who would believe you."

She just stared at him again, taken in by his odd charm, "Alright, but not here. In private. Back at my – that is, if you'd be willing to come to my house."

"But of course," he said, standing up and offering her his hand.

He didn't like holding hands with her. He didn't like being seen holding hands with her. But he knew that by his words and even that simple gesture, he had gotten her trust. By the way she held onto him there there was no mistaking that she had some romantic intention, but love was blind and easy to manipulate, and Selatcia would go along with it.

She took him home and explained to him exactly what the Order was about. He had a hard time believing that anyone would buy into it, but he acted as if he were absolutely fascinated by it. She showed him security camera feeds where she was able to keep track of all of her followers who had come to live in her house, which was more like a large apartment with a bunch of small, cramped rooms. By the time he saw the sheer number of people who followed her, he was certain that this Order had potential.

"And what is your goal?" he asked.

"We have enough followers now, and are gathering funds for the trip to Paris where we will perform the ceremony." She said, staring at him as if looking for approval.

"And how much in funds do you need?"

"Quite a bit, I'm afraid." She said, "It was easy to keep hold of the money at first but now that I'm housing the full amount of followers I have to spend all the funds raised on them every week. At this rate, it'll be a few more months."

"And what are months when you are aiming for eternity?" he said, "But no matter, I am interested in your set-up. What if I said that I could give you the funding you need?"

"I'd be incredibly grateful but why would you offer so much money? Don't you want something in return?" she said.

"I want to be appointed co-leader of the Order, in an equal position to you," he said, making up terms that made it sound as if he was really passionate about what she was doing, "And there might be something else we will discuss in time."

She thought about it for a while, looking almost hesitant. He saw this and held her hands in his, as gently as he could, he looked deep into her eyes and asked, "Do you trust me?"

She smiled as big as he'd ever seen anyone else smile before. She told him that she didn't know how, but she knew that she could trust him and leaned in to hug him. He returned the hug, no longer seeing it as a faked romantic gesture but as a way of attaining his goal. He was invested in this now, and he would see it to fruition.

With a little bribery towards the airport he managed to secure three jets to Paris in two weeks time, enough for all of the members of the Order. Liz called him from time to time, and he wanted her to trust him as much as possible so he let her some over to his house a few times and even sleep in the same bed on the last night. She wanted to go farther than that, but he told her that the time was coming and for now she must wait.

The day of the plane trip came upon them and they sat together in the first class section which, at Liz's request, was otherwise empty. For the longest time she just held onto him and told him that she knew from the moment she saw him that there was something great about him, and that she was so glad they'd met because everything was going so perfectly. He nodded. He agreed. When she was tired, he let her rest her head on his chest. He had not even twenty-four hours to go in keeping up this charade.

Near the end of the flight, he woke her up and told her there was the other term he needed to talk to her about.

"What is it, hon?" she said, still dozy.

"When you perform the ceremony, I don't want you to offer the sacrifices to the Dybbuks." He said, "I m sorry I had to wait so long to tell you this, but I am sure now of my suspicions."

"Suspicions?" she asked, looking a bit worried.

"I'd trust you of all people to believe me on this," he said, grabbing her by the hand, "Because of my…similar experience to that of your father, I was able to make contact with the Dybbuks. In speaking with them these past few nights, I have tricked them into admitting their true intentions. I am afraid the ritual we are about to perform would give ithem/i new life, while we would get nothing."

"I…trust you, Selatcia," she said, staring at the floor, "I would really like to trust you on this, too. No, I ido/i trust you, I'm sorry. What do you suggest that we do?"

"Instead of making the sacrifices in the name of the Dybbuks," he said, waiting for her response.

"Yes?"

"Sacrifice them to me."

She just stared at him, floored at the request. She was trying to process this hit to the entire foundation of her beliefs for the past few years, but something about Selatcia was incredibly persuasive. And when he spoke like that, she wanted nothing more than to be by his side forever and ever.

"I should tell you right now that I don't give a damn about the followers," he said, "From the start it was always about us. They will get nothing, but we…will get everything."

"And if they rebel?"

"They won't dare stand up to me afterwards, and if they do I'm sure a few more sacrifices will do no harm. I'll protect you from them. I'll protect you from the police. I'll protect you – my love."

That was the first time he had called her anything other than 'Liz', and she was shaken by it. As they stepped off the plane, she agreed completely to his terms. She didn't know if he was right, but she was sure that he was dedicated. Even if he was wrong the worst that could happen would be they flee somewhere together, and anywhere together with Selatcia seemed wonderful enough.

They traveled to their intended destination, in intervals of many different taxis a few blocks away, each ten minutes apart. Selatcia and Liz were in the last taxi, alone together. He held her hand the entire way there. When they arrived, he instructed her to start the ritual outside while he took a group of followers inside. Once inside, he told the followers to begin in five minutes, and he slipped out the back door, got another taxi, and drove far across town.

In the heat of the moment, Liz didn't notice he was there. After one hundred French citizens were ceremonially executed, she heard the call of sirens in the distance. Panicking, she looked around for Selatcia and was unable to find him. Asking a follower where he was, they told her that he'd left before it even started and they thought she knew about it.

Police arrested the entire Order of the Dybbuks, and she didn't know nor care about the state of the followers after they found out they had been tricked. She waited patiently for Selatcia to come and rescue her, but of course he never came. She was furious, at him and at herself for trusting him. Hindsight was perfectly clear and in her mind he no longer seemed as charming as he once was, she didn't know why she had ever trusted him. And, now that she thought of it, his eyes were nothing like her father's.

Selatcia stood on the highest balcony of the Eiffel tower. The Dybbuks (the actual spirits, not the Order) were enraged and intended to reach him again. He never knew, because before they could say anything they were overcome with fear and left, trembling. Not a man alive would dare get in his way now. He held a wine glass he had taken from the establishment where the Frenchmen were murdered. He looked at it, and then looked down, dropping it. It shattered before it hit the ground.

Liz Bane protested her sentence and constantly blamed Selatcia. Police investigated, but Selatcia had cleared his house of belongings and any other trace he had been there. The only thing they managed to locate on the name Viktor Selatcia was that it belonged to a young man last seen at Miskatonic University in 1955 – pronounced dead eighteen years ago. Liz Bane's sentence was reduced, on grounds of insanity.


End file.
